


eldest son

by hikaie



Series: 31 Days of Apex [2]
Category: Apex Legends (Video Games)
Genre: Foster Care, Gen, One Shot, Pre-Canon, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-10
Updated: 2020-07-10
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:01:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25175812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hikaie/pseuds/hikaie
Summary: a snapshot of a former life, or,Alexander visits home, sometimes.
Series: 31 Days of Apex [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1821931
Comments: 2
Kudos: 11





	eldest son

**Author's Note:**

> This one is what I like to call tentatively within the realm of possibly being canon compliant. And also I shoved a couple headcanons in there. Wanted to write something before Caustic would have gone _full_ darkside and explore some of my more favored headcanons. So here's that fic. Set approximately in Caustic's early-mid twenties. This one's a little OOC and only lightly edited so I could get it out. (Also I took some liberties with prompting here but it makes sense in my head!) Alright. Enjoy.
> 
> **Days 3 & 4: Mercy; Prize**

Alexander shoulders through the side door and promptly sighs. Two pairs of ratty children’s tennis shoes have been catapulted across the kitchen floor, leaving a pile of dust in their wake. He kicks them back into place and angles around to peer out of the window over the sink, satisfied when he finds his mother sitting exactly where he expected. He raps on the glass and she jumps a bit, but her shock turns to delight when she spots him.

“Alex! Oh!”

He rolls his eyes at the nickname. Two rather _familiar_ dark-haired heads pop around the overgrown hibiscus, and Mila shouts, “ _Awexth!_ ”

Oh, good God, she’s lost another tooth.

Moments later the lot of them come through the sliding door in the adjacent den. He grimaces his way through Mila tossing herself at his leg, passing a hand over her hair. TJ is hanging back, eyes skirting Alexander, feigning greater interest in the linoleum. His hair is shorter; he hates it short, and last Alexander had seen the two of them, Katerina had let the boy grow it down to his shoulders. Mila suddenly tears herself away, an acceptable amount of consideration received within the small frame of her four-year-old attention span, and instead barrels into her brother.

“T, leth go back outthide.”

“Ya.” He mumbles, allowing his younger sister to tug him along.

“When did that happen?” He shoots his mother a look. She smiles at him, a little maudlin so that it doesn’t reach her eyes. She turns them away from him, to the misaligned shoes on the floor, and bends to straighten them on the mat.

“You know how it is.”

The sound of Mila’s ecstatic laughter filters through the sliding screen. “TJ?” He asks. The boy is… bright. Perhaps a little too clever for his own good. People often see the cute little girl and don’t want the older brother they perceive as a clingy, unnecessary addition. (Little do they know that his sister is just as much trouble, if not more.)

When Katerina rises, she places a careful hand on his face. “How are you, my son? You look tired. Are you eating enough?”

He falters a moment- thinks of the labs back at the University, of the experiments he’s left in someone else’s certainly _less than capable hands_ to make this trip. His degree is almost finished, and he already has offers lined up across the Frontier and beyond. Admittedly, the stress of his final year has been wearing him thin, both in body and in patience. His cohorts all desire fame, to be the next innovative name in biotechnology. Fools, all of them. Gone is the appreciation for the true art of science.

But then again, here he is, just to see his mother and the foster children she can’t seem to get rid of. And he has never been one to turn down a meal, let alone her cooking. He finds himself in one of the worn chairs at the kitchen table as she heats up leftover lasagna in the microwave. His mother’s heart is soft. It’s why his stomach churns with guilt, the secret that he is going far, far away after graduation weighing it down. He prods the pile of absolutely molten pasta she deposits before him and clears his throat, nods at the door.

“How long will they be here, this time?”

“Oh, I don’t know.” She sighs, and slips into the seat across from him. He sees himself reflected, there, the square jaw and lidded, hazel eyes. “I don’t put a number on it for them anymore. Small mercies, hm?”

“TJ is quite capable of counting the days that pass.”

There are many children- innumerable, he knows all too well- who would catch hell for the things which slip thoughtless from his tongue. Katerina gives him a sour look, muttering something ugly in Russian under her breath. He snorts and responds in kind, and they trade snide remarks while he waits for his food to cool. She finally tosses her hands up before slapping them back down on the table in loose fists.

“Ah, I missed you Alexei.”

He ignores the diminutive by taking a heaping bite, promptly burning the inside of his mouth. “I missed your food.” He breathes a few moments later, palate stinging.

“An unexpected visit, now compliments… what a treat.” She draws her sweater tighter around her and narrows her eyes at him. “What have you done?”

“Is it so out of the ordinary for a son to visit his mother?”

“This son.” She chuckles. “Tell me you’re not going on another sabbatical to… how was it that you put it…”

“-procure specimens?” He should not be surprised that his mother remembers that so clearly, though he finds himself abashed. “No, this is nothing like that. I have been offered a job.”

“Oh! That’s wonderful! …It _is_ wonderful, right?”

“Yes, it is… quite the opportunity. I will have a lab of my own and there is adequate funding.” He twirls his fork and then sets it aside. “Although… it _is_ in Zaldana City.”

She sits up a bit straighter. “Oh.”

The screen door clatters open, and Mila runs to his mother’s side. She throws her arms up, grabbing any part of the woman that she can before loudly exclaiming, “Mith Tic!” in anguish. She smiles apologetically, letting her eyes drift toward the child as her arm settles over her shoulders.

“What is it, beansprout?”

“T ith being mean.” She throws her head into her guardian’s lap and whines.

“Is that so? Maybe it’s time the both of you came inside.” Her voice rises at the end, and Alexander hears a groaned _eomma!_ from the garden. He pays witness to the way his mother’s mouth softens considerably at the shout. She rubs Mila’s back in calming circles until the toddler seems pacified, draping herself across Katerina’s lap for an impromptu nap. He finishes his food in silence, his mother fixing him with a peculiar look. TJ comes traipsing inside not long after, tugging his sleeves down over his hands and finally sparing Alexander a glance.

“Hi, Alex.” He stands in the doorway between the den and the kitchen, eyes whirling around and landing on the fridge.

“Hello, TJ.” He does not get up to deposit his plate in the sink, knowing how his size intimidates the boy. Katerina reaches out her hand, ruffling over his significantly shorter hair.

“You know you can help yourself, honey.”

He nods, but his eyes don’t stray from Alexander long as he scurries to the fridge and retrieves something from the bottom shelf. He hardly has time to see what it is before the boy has shot off back into the den.

“Not in your room!” His mother calls, but if the exasperated smile she turns on Alexander tells him anything, it’s that _that_ rule is loose. “Let me put her on the couch.” She murmurs, ducking her chin toward the sleeping lapful of toddler. She hefts the child up, and he watches her, just as he’s watched her heft up dozens of other children over the years. Even now, with age setting in around her eyes, she makes it look easy.

“Mother.”

She pauses in the doorway, Mila’s head lolling on her shoulder. “Yeah? Hurry, she’s heavier than she looks.” But she adjusts her hands, and sways, and says it all with a smile while waiting for Alexander to say his piece.

“Perhaps there should not be an end to their stay, this time.”

Her shoulders heave on a breath, and she turns her face so her mouth is hidden in Mila’s hair.

“Yes. I think you may be right.”


End file.
